Tis Strange
by and a toy in blood
Summary: Juliet had been working on a humane way of killing someone. Her lover dies and, heartbroken, she attempts to use her own experiment to end her life. Thus Ophelia came about - a Rogue with a hatred for the world and an obsession with Hamlet and water.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

* * *

><p>It had all started when Juliet had discovered the cruelty of capital punishment. It can take several shocks from the electric chair before the person died - and it could even melt their brain first. The gas chamber made the person feel incredible pain and so did lethal injection. Even death by firing squad meant that the person could spend their last moments in agony.<p>

For some people, this was perfectly acceptable. After all, the criminal's victims had been in excruciating pain when they had died - so why shouldn't the criminal feel the same torment? For Juliet Irving, this was horrific - surely this should be censored as it came under 'cruel and unusual punishment'? Maybe it was because she was English and they didn't have the death penalty in the United Kingdom or maybe she just hated to see anyone in any pain at all, even if they were criminals … but Juliet resolved to find a completely painless way of killing somebody.  
>She had been fourteen when she decided this.<p>

Juliet had stayed on to sixth year of high school and graduated at eighteen. Her higher subjects had been Chemistry, Physics, Biology and English. She went to university and majored in Biological Sciences, minoring in English. No matter how dedicated she was to her goal, she always nurtured a strong love for plays and literature - Shakespeare in particular. But then she had, after all, been named after the tragic heroine.

Juliet moved to America after completing her degree, reasoning that research would be easier in a country that actually practiced capital punishment She didn't really mind whether the state she was in had a death penalty - it did then information would probably be more accessible, if it didn't then they might be more open to a _humane_ way of eliminating criminals. She chose Gotham City as house prices there were reasonably low and her mother had grown up in a city only about a hundred miles away. In hindsight, maybe she should have thought a little more on the reasons for such economical rates.

Juliet opted for studying drowning as she experienced the sensation when she was around five and it hadn't seemed overly painful. She would later discover that what she had experienced was passive drowning - which is when one has sunk, or is sinking, without movement. This was most common in those who fell in the water by accident, as Juliet had, or who are unconscious or have experienced a sudden medical condition. She would also realised that the reason is hadn't been painful was either because her memory had blanked out the pain or because she hadn't been fully conscious.  
>But until she discovered this, Juliet believed that drowning was a potentially painless way to die.<p>

For the next two years, she researched and experimented and made enquiries and then researched some more. She discovered a way of drowning her 'test subjects' - mice to begin with, rabbits as her experiments became more successful - without any being involved water, using just a pill which that was the fruit of her toil.

But she just couldn't get the formula right. Sure enough, the animals would die - but they always seemed to thrash around, as if in a considerable amount of pain, before they died. Juliet had established that drowning _was_ agonizing - but she had put so much research into the project that she became determined to find a way to _make_ it painless.

During that time she met, dated and fell in love with a man named Alexander Kersey. Alexander was a sailor and was often away for months at time, bringing exotic gifts back every time he returned. Juliet loved him dearly and spent every moment she could with him, crying each time he left on a new voyage and welcoming home with devotion in her heart upon his homecoming. He comforted her upon her parents' divorce - which she blamed herself for as she hadn't been there to help hold the family together - and reassured her that even although Mr. Irving, her father, hadn't made any contact with her since he definitely still loved her. Alexander let Juliet sob into his chest when she received news that her mother had died in a car crash and gently reminded her that he was still here for her and that he would never leave.

The couple were going to pool their money and buy a house together as soon as Juliet found the right formula and Alexander completed enough voyages. It was late spring, a few months after Juliet's twenty-fourth birthday, and Alexander was out on a ship in the Mediterranean Sea. Juliet was trying a new formula when she received the call. The call that told her Alexander was gone ... drowned … _dead_. His ship had been sunk in a storm and his body had been found washed up on a beach in Malta. And Juliet was completely alone.

When she put the phone down, she just stood and stared at it awhile. He was gone. Her Alexander, her lover, her _life_, was gone. _He had promised he'd never leave her_. He had promised he'd be there for her! But he wasn't. He was _gone_. And she had_ nothing_. _No-one _would hold her now, _no-one_ would tell her that they were there and would never go ... because _no-one was there for her. _What did she do ... _what could she possibly have done _... to deserve this. _Nothing_. _Nothing at all_.

Juliet looked around the room, calmly, carefully, before her eyes fell on a tiny white tablet. Why not? What was there left to live for? Alexander had drowned … why shouldn't _she_?

Serenely, she glided over the worktop. Placidly, she picked up the pill and put in her mouth. And then she swallowed.


	2. Chapter One

_Anything that Ophelia says in italics is a quote from Hamlet._

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><p><strong>Chapter One<strong>.

* * *

><p>Ophelia smiled around the warehouse. Now it was hers and she had made it pretty. The room was filled with flowers and ribbons adorned the walls. Water flooded the floor, ankle-deep, flower petals floating on the surface. Water, water, everywhere. Lots and lots of water. The thugs she had got hold of - Francisco and Barnardo, she called them and she didn't care at all what their real names were - whined about how the water was leaking into their shoes and making their feet all wet. Ophelia ignored them, she didn't care how soaked their socks were. Ophelia walked barefoot when inside and when outside wore nothing on her feet other than a pair of dainty black slippers.<p>

"_What hour now?_" she asked Francisco, skipping over to the table littered with vials. This was where she conducted her experiments and in those vials were a variety of different solutions, all guaranteed to make the recipient fill as though they were drowning but only a few of them would actually kill the victim. Ophelia had refined the liquid until in no longer had to be consumed - she could just throw the vial at someone and it would soak in through the skin.

"Ten to nine," Francisco replied awkwardly. For him, this job really wasn't worth it. The boss was _creepy_, with her little songs and strange smiles and obsession with water. He only stayed because the pay was good. Unlike _him_, Francisco darted a look in Barnardo's direction, who stayed because of some weird attraction to the boss. Sure, Ophelia was ethereally beautiful with her large dark-blue eyes, moon-pale skin and her head of long white-blonde ringlets - but she was always sopping wet! Besides, say one word out of place and she would chuck one of those vials at you and then you'd be in trouble. The sooner he got enough to money to pay off his gambling bets, the better. And then he could get away from this job and find a towel. He took a step towards the cupboards - they were set high up on the walls so the water wouldn't get in - and slipped, falling her headfirst into the water.

"_They say the owl was a baker's daughter!_" Ophelia called mockingly and Francisco cursed her inwardly. Barnardo snickered but moved to help the other man get up. The wet floor was treacherous, especially as some of the flower petals had sunk and littered the bottom, and the two hired goons often lost their footing. Somehow Ophelia never fell.

Ophelia was bored. She had to lie low at the moment as Batman was after her and, besides, if she did too many heists in too little time a few choice members of the Rogue Gallery would come after her and teach her a lesson about taking turns. And Ophelia couldn't afford to get beaten up badly this early in her career. Or ever, really. Although dark purple bruises would look suitable dramatic and would almost fit, a broken leg would definitely stop her from gliding smoothly across the flooded warehouse floor and crutches would in no way fit in with the image she was trying to create.

And it was true, Ophelia always was soaking wet. Damp curls cascaded down her back and the hem of her dress was permanently saturated; Ophelia _made sure_ she always looked like she'd just been caught in a particularly heavy rainstorm. A girl had a reputation to uphold after all - and moreover, she rather liked the feel of cold water trickling down her spine. It was comforting.

"_He is dead and gone, lady,  
><em>_He is dead and gone,  
><em>_At his head a grass-green turf,  
><em>_At his heels a stone_," Ophelia sang in a light lilting voice as she prepared a new bottle of her drowning-liquid. She completely failed to notice the looks the two men exchanged behind her back. Francisco's said something along the lines of _why are we working for this lunatic_ while Barnardo's was more _she may be completely insane but she sure is gorgeous_. If Barnardo had known what was about to happen he may have revised his opinion of his boss.

Suddenly the girl spun around, a malicious look on her face, and threw a vial straight at Barnardo. It shattered as it hit him, glass marking his face. The clear liquid inside ran into the cuts, making the process work even faster. Barnardo collapsed onto the floor, thrashing - which made water fly in every which direction - attempting to reach the surface of river that only existed inside his mind. He died in full view of Francisco but there was nothing that his friend could do to help him.

"_For bonny sweet Robin is all my joy_," Ophelia sighed a little and turned back to the table, "It wasn't diluted enough. _It is common."_

Francisco found himself wondering yet again why he wasn't running away from here as fast as he possibly could.


End file.
